


Whistles

by ca_te



Category: Loveless
Genre: Angst, M/M, Shounen ai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written on 23rd February 2009.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Whistles

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 23rd February 2009.

The nicotine rushes down his bronchioles. The sound of water running reaches his little, well shaped ears. They say "ears like shells".

He breathes out the smoke, it stays a little more over his head and then disperses in the wind.

Keeping his left earing between his thumb and index he sighs.

It hurt, that time. But then it was gone, his flesh has grown used to the cold metal pierced through it.

Sometimes he wants to push that piercer in his trembling hands again. And just have his ears pierced over and over.

He stamps out his cigarette against the wooden floor and fishes in his pocket for his cell phone, but his fingers stop, he turns and goes back inside.

\- Ehi Sou-chan, dinner is ready.

Kio is sitting at the table, stretching an arm towards him, a beer can in his right hand.

Soubi smiles and takes the beer. It is fresh and bitter on his tongue, he let it flow along his oesophagus. He always let things rush inside and through him. Usually things that do nothing good to him. He let a bitter smirk stir his lips, at the thought.

\- What's with that grimace, Sou-chan! You are scaring me!

He watches Kio's pouting face and opens another can.

The mobile starts buzzing against his tight. it continues to buzz as Soubi lights another cigarette and listens to Kio's comforting bubbling.

 

Ritsuka slams the cell phone onto the mattress. Something hot spreads from his stomach to his throat, he grits his teeth and let his little hands find the way through his dark, soft hair, pulling and pulling. When the heat begins to fade away and he's able to catch his breath he glares at the photographs hang on the wall. His eyes tickle but he swallows and stands up.

He brushes the tips of his fingers over the plastic and a sad smile blossoms over his face.

Thinking of how pathetic he is he turns his back to the photos and opens the window.

The air is calm and still, arms abandoned along the sides, he just prays for the wind to come.

 

Adult's and child's ears whistle in different parts of the city.


End file.
